


I Didn't Start the Fire!

by Ravensdawn



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 12:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10021649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravensdawn/pseuds/Ravensdawn
Summary: He didn't start the fire, the fire started something else.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little snippet of Patrick and Kimball finally getting with the program.
> 
> This has been sitting in my WIP file forever, thought I'd finish it up. Hope it makes you smile.

“I didn’t start this fire,” Patrick quickly protested.  He grabbed a lid and tried to snuff out the flaming pan. Smoke started filling the room.

“You’re the only one in here,” Cho replied, using his considerable detective skills.

“Just shut up and help me put it out!”

That was when the fire prevention system kicked in.  The CBI break room was suddenly awash in water spraying from the ceiling. Too late, Cho ran, clothes spotted with damp.  Patrick gave up on staying dry, moving the pan to the bulk of the flow of water to be sure the fire was out.  He pulled over a chair and stood on it, trying to figure out if there was a way to turn off the water without needing the fire department showing up.  No such luck.

Patrick was drenched to the bone, curls flattened over his face, standing on a chair, still holding the burned-to-a-crisp frying pan.  The shower poured relentlessly down.  He heard the laughter before he turned around.  Lisbon, Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho had gathered outside the door.  They had all “helped” the firemen find the break room, they were all needed, really.  The fireman assessed the situation and turned off the sprinkler system and got to work on resetting it. 

Lisbon took pity on him and handed him a towel as he climbed off the chair.  The only towel she could find was a kitchen towel and it wasn’t even close to up to the task.  Her pity didn’t stop the giant grin on her face. 

“Really, I didn’t start it.  I was walking by and noticed the smell.  Before I could do anything, it was flaming.” He added, “I’m telling the truth, I’m the hero here, the whole place could have burned down,” he added when Lisbon’s face indicated that she didn’t quite believe him. 

“Van Pelt, can you take Jane home, he probably shouldn’t be driving like this,” Lisbon asked, giggling.

“Sorry, Boss, I’m supposed to be at the witness’ house right now to interview.  I’m late as it is,” Van Pelt answered, looking very glad to have the perfect excuse.

“I’ll take him,” Cho offered, “I was going to write reports, but I can do that later.” Patrick beamed.

“Thank you,” Patrick said with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I knew I could count on you, Cho, good ol’ Cho!” Behind the sarcasm was genuine gratitude, and Cho knew it.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go.  Try not to drip in my car,” Cho said as seriously as he could.

“How can I do that? I’m soaked?” Patrick grumped.

“Not my problem,” Cho replied with a blank face.

“Guess I’ll have to take off my suit,” Patrick suggested with a smirk, “and my shoes, and my socks and my t-shirt,” he said waggling his eyebrows in challenge.  “My underwear is falling down with water, guess they’ll have to go, too.  I’m gonna have to ride naked.  In your car.  In the front seat. At least my butt can dry off on the way.”

Cho took a deep breath and sighed, holding his hands in double stop signs.  “Please stop talking.  I’ll get my towel from my locker.  No need to strip.” Patrick grinned.  He’d won and he knew it.  Cho went and got the towel while Patrick took off his suit jacket and vest and tie.  When Cho got back he wrapped the towel around his shoulders.

“Thanks, Cho.  Let’s go,” Patrick said.  “That rhymed!” Patrick said with glee, enjoying himself immensely. 

Cho rolled his eyes and followed him out.

 

              They pulled up and parked at Patrick’s house. When it looked like Cho was going to wait patiently in the car, Patrick was having none of that.

“Come inside, Cho, I don’t bite.  I’ll be the perfect gentleman,” he said.

“Promise?” Cho retorted.

“Have I ever lied to you?” Patrick said while Cho couldn’t even make eye contact that statement was so ridiculous.

But Cho got out of the car and dutifully followed Jane into the house.  Jane excused himself upstairs to shower and change clothes, suggesting Cho make some coffee for himself while he waited. “And I’d love some tea while you’re at it,” Jane added.  The grin was back on his face.  Cho had known as soon as he got out of the car that he wasn’t really the one making the decisions anymore anyway, so he headed to the kitchen. Truth be told, he knew he was screwed as soon as he offered to take Patrick home.  He had to admit, he had a small, very private, ulterior motive. There’d been this strange energy between he and Patrick and he wanted to investigate further.  He needed to know if he was imagining things.

He put the kettle on to boil and started searching through the cupboards.  Tea and sliced bread was just about the extent of the contents.  A lonely can of soup and a jar of instant coffee rounded out the supplies.  Cho decided that Jane’s tea, imported from Britain, was far preferable to the instant coffee, so he set the tea on the counter and closed the cabinet doors.  The next task was to find a cup or two.  He found three clean mugs and one dirty one in the sink.  Tea bags in the mugs, a bit of milk at the ready (which he found in a similarly stocked fridge that didn’t smell too bad) and all he had to do now was wait.

Cho had always thought that Jane spent all his time at the CBI because the house reminded him too much of, well of everything.  It had been a beautiful home with a beautiful family, but that was no more. Cho felt the loss and he’d never even met Patrick’s wife and child. _Why didn’t he sell the house?_ He was going to try to find a way to bring that up in conversation some time.  He thought he might also surreptitiously find a way to restock this home without hurting Jane’s pride.  Maybe bring his own mugs and “forget” them or invite himself over and bring way too much beer and snacks.  _Did milk, eggs, bread, ham and cheese count as snacks?_ Cho was suddenly feeling protective, especially when presented with how little Jane seemed to be taking care of himself.   More concerning was Cho’s desire to be the one who takes care of him.  That thought made him stop still, but then he smiled to himself over it.

Cho squeezed out the tea bags and carried the steaming cups through the door into the living room only to be presented with Jane, a nearly naked Jane.  The two men froze.  Jane had a towel over his unmentionables, but a hundred miles of bare skin and surprisingly defined muscles were on full display.  He had been moving as quickly and quietly as he could to the laundry room behind the kitchen. Cho’s eyes were as big as Jane had ever seen them. Cho swallowed hard and flushed, then tried to turn back to the kitchen, but was thwarted when he spilled a drop of hot tea on his thumb.  One handed, so Jane could keep the towel where he needed it, Jane pointed lamely to the laundry room and tried to explain that all of his clean clothes were in there, but he was talking to Cho’s back.

Jane ran into the laundry room and slammed the door.  He questioned his decision to just hang up his suits from the dry cleaners in the laundry room.  He hadn’t felt like carrying them upstairs yesterday and now Cho had seen him naked.  He also vowed to never leave the load of underwear and socks in the dryer ever again.  He got himself dressed, sighed deeply, and decided he couldn’t hide in the laundry room forever.

He peeked out and saw that Cho had settled on his couch with the tea on the table in front of him.  He stepped forward and as soon as he made eye contact, they burst into laughter.  Jane was so relieved.  He wasn’t easy to embarrass, and he had been embarrassed.  Damp ringlets framed his rosy cheeks. His blue eyes were sparkling. _Framed his rosy cheeks?! His blue eyes were sparkling?!_ Cho tried to reign in his thoughts for the millionth time.  Unrequited love sucked.

Cho was giggling but managed a “tea?” and Jane’s “love some” was equally laden with laughter.  He finally settled on the couch and the two of them sipped the hot liquid.  Suddenly, it was dead quiet.

And awkward.

Cho glanced at Jane.  Jane glanced at Cho. Neither saw the other glance. The uncomfortable silence dragged on.  Cho chugged the last of his tea and stood up.

“We should get back to work,” Cho said, retreating to a safe topic. 

“Not yet, I’m not ready yet,” Patrick retorted, “I just sat down and my hair is still wet. Please stay.” He had meant that to sound friendly, but it came out a little desperate and full of feeling.  He watched Cho’s deep brown eyes soften as he reacted to the request.  _God, there’s so much in his eyes._  Patrick’s face flashed from confusion to hope and back. _I think I just gave away more than I wanted_ , Cho thought.

There was that weird energy again.  Cho wasn’t imagining it.  But now what to do?

“I have to stay if you are.  I’m your ride,” Cho argued, and Patrick wondered if he’d seen what he thought he’d seen.  Cho sounded cold and guarded now.  This time when Cho sat down, though, he was much closer on the couch.

Cho turned to look at Jane, who was apparently studying Cho intently.  Cho watched those piercing eyes that see everything scanning his face.  It was heady and intimate and now he definitely knew he hadn’t been imagining things.  How he’d wanted Jane’s attention and now he had it. He followed the emotions that flew across Jane’s face: interest, anxiety, caring, fear, tenderness, concern and questioning.  Cho tried to reflect them back.  He was feeling all the same things, along with responsibility.  Jane’s vulnerability and trust were precious and he was proud that Jane was trusting him with them. Before he knew it, he was leaning close to Jane.  He risked leaning his forehead against Patrick’s. 

He needn’t have worried.  Jane grasped the back of Cho’s neck to hold him there. Jane could feel his heart pounding and he found he had to think about breathing.  He had harbored feelings for Cho for years, never thinking he’d ever act on them.  Never thinking Cho would want him to act on them. 

“Patrick” Cho breathed.

Jane tilted his head and rubbed his lips on Cho’s.  It was soft and sweet and tentative. He put his lips on Cho’s again and this time Cho reciprocated.  Jane’s relief sent shivers down his arms.  Cho never wanted to stop.  _I’m making out with Jane_. Their kisses kicked up a level. Patrick opened his mouth and was rewarded with Cho’s tongue pushing against his.  _Heaven._  This is it, this is what Patrick had been missing. He could trust his self to Kimball, he was safe here.

Patrick hadn’t felt safe since Red John tore into his life, irrevocably changing it forever.  Even he wouldn’t have guessed that he would find it in Agent Kimball Cho.  It wasn’t something that happened all at once.  Years of Cho always having his back, saving his life time and time again, never needing to explain himself to Cho all brought him to this point.  He’d long ago lost himself to beautiful brown eyes and that smile that, once earned, he’d do anything to earn again. 

For Kimball, he’d fallen almost from the start.  Patrick’s tragedy had led Cho to tread lightly. He’d wanted to dismiss him for the whole psychic hulabaloo, but Jane surprised him with his honesty about his abilities.  Although he betrayed little, Cho was blown away by Jane.  He remembered reminding himself at first not to follow Jane around like a puppy dog.  He wanted to stay close, intrigued by the intelligence, drawn to the broken man underneath.  Torn by competing urges to both protect and challenge Jane, Cho was fascinated by this crazy man.

The two men, lost in thought and sensation, sat on the couch and kissed.  No one in a hurry to go anywhere or to take things further.  Magnets are better at pulling apart. Kimball traced Jane’s ear with his fingers, ran his palm through his hair.  Patrick ran his hands over Kimball’s shoulders up to the nape of his neck.  When they finally did make eye contact again, the look was an understanding between them that their lives had just changed.  The world realigned, things made sense again, it can only get better.


End file.
